


The Next Right Thing

by Thunderrrstruck



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Death With Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Post-Infinity War, Whumptober 2020, survivor's guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderrrstruck/pseuds/Thunderrrstruck
Summary: Tony has to be the one to tell her Peter’s gone.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6
Collections: Whumptober





	The Next Right Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 19 of Whumptober2020. Prompt: Survivor's Guilt.
> 
> IT'S MY FIFTIETH FIC ON THIS PLACE! *celebration fog horn*

_‘You don’t have to do this’_ rang in his head as hollow as the hole in his heart. Tony lifted his hand but held himself back from knocking. The guilt corroded him from the inside out. It had been eating him alive the entire month he spent in space. While he could and _had_ faked a smile for Nebula, his heart had began flaking as soon as the moment he turned on the spot and spotted the disintegration of Peter Parker. Since then, it beat like a whisper.

Tony swore not to close his eyes again. (If only his basic biology would let him keep that promise.) He slept five hours more each night than he wanted to, which is to say, he _averaged_ five hours. Meals, he kept light. Work, it pained him to detach from. Pepper, he thought about constantly but ignored for the blame burning in his head. He didn’t want to hurt her. He couldn’t _not_ stop working, however. It was the same problem as it had always been. Detaching from distraction proved to be Tony’s greatest hurdle. In the end, it wasn’t Thanos; it was his inability to forgive the one person he lived his entire life with: himself.

According to Pepper, one month was too long for self-loathing and guilt-stewing. She traveled down to the garage and told him he had to take a step forward. She took one of his hands in hers, steered him upstairs, towards the coatrack, and let go in front of the door.

 _‘You have to,’_ a stark change in mind from her sentiments one month ago, the week after he landed. _‘For both your sakes, tell her.’_

 _‘What if I can’t?’_ Seriously, what if he saw her face and immediately collapsed? His heart might give out; he knew it couldn’t take much more.

 _‘It has to be you,’_ encouraged Pepper. _‘This one step forward, it’s the right one. I promise you.’_

She had kissed him on the forehead, helped him with his coat, and brought him to the car. She drove (Tony didn’t trust himself behind the wheel in his state), but when they arrived, he told her to wait in the car. This had to be all him and only him. He hurried up the stairs.

He stood in Queens in the familiar halls of an apartment complex in front of May Parker’s quarters.

He didn’t close his eyes. He just knocked.

Three solemn taps evoked no answer.

So, he waited.

He could knock again. He could call through the wood, but he suspected neither option to be reciprocated kindly. The least he could do was pay her in patience. Patience wouldn’t bring her nephew back, but she’d be grieving. And the grieving needed space.

Finally, it cracked open a few inches. Glasses magnified a brunette’s narrowed eyes. Then, they expanded with recognition. An attractive brunette dragged the door further back, widening the hole in the wall.

“Ms. Parker,” he greeted as professionally as he could. (Yet, there was no helping the glossy sheen of his eyes; that became permanent as of two months ago.) When their eyes met, May knew; he knew she knew. She was just piecing the puzzle together for the entire image. A hand reached up to cover her mouth.

“H-How did it happen?” was all she asked.

“I didn’t want him there, but he– We tried to stop it. We couldn’t. Half the uni... the univers...” Not only did Tony pay over three seconds of thought to his time on Titan, but he shut his eyes, unable to take her watery gaze any longer. _An orange sky, rubble walks, a hand, ‘let him go!’, snap, light— flaking_. He caught himself on the doorframe just in time.

 _Never_ , Tony warned himself, _never close your eyes again_.

“I’m sorry.” No speech above the volume of wind was doable, let alone appropriate.

May lowered her hand and, unexpectedly, reached it forward. He thought for sure she’d lash out in hate. She had every right to blame him. Tony flinched as her hand came to a rest on the arm just below his shoulder. Why wasn't she angrier? If he weren’t drowning in guilt, he might have noticed how overly rigid her fingers felt or her shoulders appeared, how gaunt her eyes and firm her jaw was. But in his moment, she just looked strong.

“Did he suffer?” Her lip trembled uttering the last word.

_(‘I don’t want to go. Please!’)_

Tony shook his head. The memory was his alone to bear. His fault meant his burden.

“I wish it were different. I wish he were here instead of me.”

May bore her understanding through the tears rolling down her cheeks. She bit her lip and shivered her head up and down. When she spoke again, her voice could have rivalled the void of space in terms of quietude:

“I know, Tony. I do.”


End file.
